


Yours, Mine, Ours

by greenglowsgold



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Ciscoshipweek, M/M, brief appearances by Caitlin and Joe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 14:47:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3696290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenglowsgold/pseuds/greenglowsgold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'd be comfortable calling it <i>our</i> suit."</p><p>It sounded more important than if probably should, but part and parcel with this whole strange, new life was the way certain words had new meanings, so this was just one of those things. Barry resolved to hear it again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yours, Mine, Ours

**Author's Note:**

> Written for #Ciscoshipweek on tumblr. Thanks to [herestoyoumsholly](http://herestoyoumsholly.tumblr.com) for the quick beta job!

"I'd be comfortable calling it _our_ suit," Cisco said, and Barry felt his chest jolt at that second-to-last word. Not just Barry's, the one who wore it and dirtied it up; not just Cisco's, the one who fixed it, whether that meant a soldering iron or a sewing needle. _Our_ suit.

 

It sounded more important than if probably should, but part and parcel with this whole strange, new life was the way certain words had new meanings, like whenever someone commented, “Wow, that was fast.” So this was just one of those things, except it made him feel warm instead of nervous and vaguely smug. Barry resolved to hear it again.

It was two weeks later that he got his wish. He might have pushed for it a little, having walked with Cisco over to the convenience store and insisting that they split the cost of a bag of Jolly Ranchers (Cisco made him promise not to eat more than half the bag, no matter how much his high metabolism tempted him). They were munching happily on twin pieces of sour apple flavor when they got back to the lab. Barry found he had to concentrate while he ate, because if he let his mouth work absently around the candy, it would be dissolved in under fifteen seconds.

Walking by with a sheaf of papers in her hands, Caitlin dropped her hand into the bag and snagged a piece of candy. “Hey!” Cisco cried in mock outrage. “That’s _our_ candy, you know, and we walked over seven minutes to get to the store.”

Barry missed Caitlin’s reply and the ensuing conversation, too busy sinking back into the enjoyment of hearing that word again. It felt nice, it felt so nice, and he wondered whether it was just the pleasure of being included, of having a group of friends he knew would back him up. He used to do clubs and things in college, but after that, there wasn’t a lot of opportunity for meeting people.

He came back up right around the time Caitlin was saying, “And we’re a team, aren’t we? Got to keep our energy up.” She tilted a smile toward Barry, looking for his approval, and while he nodded and agreed, he wondered why it didn’t sound quite the same coming from her.

 

He experimented over the next few weeks. Statements of camaraderie were always encouraging, and he was growing to depend on them more and more, to the point where he didn’t know what would happen if something separated him from these people, now. But Cisco’s words were always different, just a little. Maybe it was how friendly he always was, how much he sounded like he meant it. Maybe it was because, more often than not, Cisco’s was the voice in his ear while he ran, telling him which way to turn.

 

Sometimes he did more than save people.

Sometimes he brought back squirming, ungrateful piles of fluff that would have been incinerated in that apartment fire if it weren’t for him, and this was the thanks he got? Scratches all up and down his arms, and a lecture from Cisco.

“Your choice to carry it with bare arms, dude. You know that’s what the suit’s made for, right? Protection?”

“Well, excuse me, I thought you would be annoyed if I brought it back covered in kitten scratches.”

Cisco raised an eyebrow, then walked over to where the kitten was playing with one of the keyboards on the desk. He picked up one of it’s little paws and raised it so Barry could see the miniscule claws on the end. “These things? Are not going to do much damage.”

“Tell that to my capillaries,” Barry replied, wondering why the kitten was so tolerant of Cisco holding up its leg when it had yowled bloody murder at being dragged out of a burning building.

“So she was scared, go figure.” Cisco shrugged. “I bet she’s grateful now, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

The kitten looked up at Cisco, stretched once against the keyboard so that a string of unconnected letters appeared on the screen, then jumped off the desk (more like fell off, it was still too young to jump properly) and onto Barry’s lap.

“Ha! See?”

Barry shook his head, reaching down to stroke the kitten’s ears. It purred and pushed its head into his fingers. “Alright, alright, you’re cute.”

“Thanks,” Cisco said easily, turning away so that he missed the way Barry blushed (oh, shit). “You know, I would’ve expected someone to show up and claim her, by now. I mean, we put up the posters.”

“Maybe she wasn’t anyone’s,” Barry suggested, glad for the immediate change of topic.

Cisco frowned. “Well, then we’re gonna have to figure out something else to do with her. Dr. Wells was cool about keeping her here for a few days, but he doesn’t want a mascot.”

The kitten was oblivious to their conversation, paying no attention to the decision of her fate and choosing instead to curl up into a ball on Barry’s lap and settle in. Barry smiled down at the way her tail twitched against his leg. Okay, so she was pretty cute. The scratches on his arms had healed at super-speed, anyway, so there was no lasting harm done. “I’d take her, but Joe’s allergic. Couldn’t bring her back to his house.” He glanced up at Cisco. “She likes following you around, anyway.”

Cisco hummed thoughtfully. “You know, technically, I’m not supposed to have pets in my building.” He got down on one knee and tapped the top of the kitten’s head so she peeled open her eyes to look at him. “But you wouldn’t make any noise, would you? You’d be good.” The kitten, in apparent agreement, closed her eyes once more. “Good. We’ll shake on it later. After your nap.”

Barry snorted. Somehow, he doubted Cisco would be binding her to any contracts. He poked her in the side, which didn’t seem to disturb her sleep in the least. “Hey, you better listen to Cisco. Don’t want to get yourself kicked out of his place, do you?”

“You can come by every so often,” Cisco offered. “Help keep her in line.”

Barry looked up. “Really, dude?” He’d never even been to Cisco’s apartment, before.

“Yeah, sure.” Cisco grinned at him over the top of the computers. “You can be the stern parent, and I’ll be the fun one, you know? You tell her to behave and I’ll sneak her extra catnip.”

“Hey, so unfair,” Barry protested, but Cisco wasn’t listening.

“What’re we gonna call our little friend, anyway? Something good.”

There it was again. Barry stomach nearly flipped over itself at the unexpected words. “Uh. Aren’t you usually the guy who names things?”

Cisco paused for a minute, like he had to think back and go over what he’d said. Then he waved it off, batting at the air. The kitten looked up at the motion. “Sure I am, and my word is final. But I thought I’d at least let you offer some suggestions.”

 

For all that Barry and Catnip Everdeen (apparently Cisco loved _The Hunger Games_ , and he got more creative after Barry vetoed ‘Jennipurr Aniston’) had gotten off to a bit of a rough start, they got along much better after that. Presumably, she felt much more comfortable in the warmth and safety of Cisco’s apartment than in the middle of a building currently burning down, which Barry could understand. He, too, was better at meeting people when not surrounded by fire.

The kitten, and the time at Cisco’s place, led to ever-increasing opportunities for Barry to hear Cisco call things “ours.” There was “our cat,” at the local PetCo, looking for the right kind of wet food. There was “our pizza,” when Cisco called in an order for “our movie night.” There was “our laundry,” when the machines in Cisco’s building were on the fritz and he requested backup at the local laundromat.

Then, one night when they both stayed late at the lab and Barry couldn’t help himself anymore, cupped his hands around Cisco’s face and pressed their lips together, there was “our little secret,” which made Barry shiver so hard he nearly started vibrating. Cisco noticed anyway and called it “potential,” which was almost as good.

 

Of course, the part where they kept quiet about it didn’t last for long, because, well. Technically, Barry _could_ keep a secret to save his life, since he could still count the number of people who’d seen beneath the mask on two hands, but anything less important than that was forfeit. He lasted about two days before spilling the reason why he was smiling all the time (it was “kinda creepy,” according to Joe, who just rolled his eyes when Barry explained himself and muttered something about the honeymoon stage, but it was clear he was pleased on Barry’s behalf).

They got a lot of questions after that, but when Caitlin got a little too interested in something she claimed was ‘important to her understanding of Barry’s physiology,’ Cisco drew back, holding his hands out. “Whoa, okay,” he stuttered. “I think that one falls under the definition of ‘our own business.’ As in: keeping it to ourselves?”

Well, Barry would side with Cisco in a heartbeat when he talked like that.

“You just say that because you already know about it,” Caitlin protested, frowning.

Cisco nodded. “As is my right. Now, we have to go.”

Apparently, they were late for “our date,” which Barry didn’t precisely remember planning, but again, who was he to argue with words like that?

 

Because no one at S.T.A.R. labs had yet gotten around to buying paperweights, it was in the midst of what looked like a small blizzard that Barry appeared suddenly at Cisco’s side, demanding to know what had happened.

“Got a cast, man,” Cisco said, grinning as he held up his green-plastered arm and avoiding the question with a strong determination.

Barry turned to Caitlin for an answer, but she just held up her hands, saying she was done doctoring for the day and they’d have to work out the rest for themselves.

Meanwhile, Cisco had swung his legs off the bed and was halfway to standing before Barry caught his elbow. “Whoa, are you supposed to be up, right now?”

“Barry, _chill_ , it’s my arm that’s messed up, not my legs.” Cisco waved him off and stood, stumbling immediately and making Barry grab for his arm again. “Okay, and maybe my head a little, too. Thanks.”

“You shouldn’t have been there,” Barry said, steadying him with one hand as they moved over to a regular sort of chair.

Cisco shot him a look. “Considering ‘there’ was the nearest diner that serves breakfast past noon? I don’t think you can blame me for that coincidence. Unless what you actually mean is: you should’ve been there, which I actually don’t want to hear either.”

Barry swallowed his words, came up with something different. “What I mean is, you should’ve run when the guy who can pick up rocks with his mind showed up and started _throwing them_. Everyone else at the diner seemed to understand that.”

“If everyone had run, he would’ve just picked someone at random to attack. Look, I know you’re the one with the powers and everything, but we’re part of this too. This is our job. I’m just trying to do it right.”

Oh, hell. Those were supposed to be the magic words, but now, they just made Barry feel sick to his stomach. “Do it _safe_ , too,” he said quietly.

Cisco jabbed him in the side. “You wanna promise the same?”

In the end, no one promised much of anything, but Barry found a permanent marker and doodled all over Cisco’s cast. Mostly dragons and snakes and flowers, things that looked good in green.

 

The cast came off in a few weeks. Catnip was nearly as excited about this as Cisco was, rubbing all over the newly-exposed skin with so much enthusiasm she almost toppled off the couch when he shifted.

“Good to see you’re happy about it, too,” Barry said, picking up her tail to avoid squishing it as he sat down in the empty space Cisco had left.

“Weren’t we gonna celebrate?” Cisco said. “Like, with music and Chinese food?”

“Really?” Barry asked, eyebrows raised. “You can’t think of any better way to celebrate the return of full mobility to both your arms?”

Cisco groaned. “You’re terrible, you know that? And I bet everything thinks I’m the terrible one, but no, it’s you.”

Barry laughed. “You love it. Anyway,” he continued, because he hadn’t really thought that through and he didn’t know how Cisco was planning to respond to that one, “Chinese food’s already on the way, we have a thirty-minutes-or-less guarantee.”

“And music?”

Waving the iPod he was currently scrolling through, Barry made it clear he was on it. He leaned over to kiss Cisco once on the top of his head, a stay-there-and-relax-I’ve-got-this gesture, and went back to the list of artists. “Man, you’ve got a lot of Lady Gaga on here.”

“Hey.” Cisco frowned. “That one’s your fault, you know.”

“My fault? How is it my fault? I didn’t download it for you.”

“No, but like, half your list of favorite songs on facebook is her stuff. You were in a coma for _nine months_ , dude. It was easier just to buy the albums and stick them on repeat.”

Barry scrunched up his forehead, completely confused, before a memory clicked in his head. “Oh my God, is that why ‘Poker Face’ was playing when I woke up?”

Cisco shrugged.

“That’s so… I don’t know if the word I’m looking for is ‘sweet’ or ‘super weird.’”

“You slept right through it, so you don’t get to comment. You know, you were really cute, but I couldn’t just sit and stare at you in that big open room in the dead quiet. I had to get some Gaga playing.”

“So, weird, then?”

“Shut up,” Cisco laughed, grabbing a pillow from the end of the couch and hitting Barry in the face with it. Catnip, disgruntled by the movement, leapt off of Cisco’s lap and strutted off toward the bedroom as if it had been her plan all along.

When they were still and quiet on the couch once more, Barry turned to Cisco to ask, “So, does that make ‘Poker Face’ _our song_?”

“You want _that_ to be our song?” Cisco replied, and he was only repeating words Barry had already said, but they sounded so much better coming out of Cisco’s mouth. “It’s not romantic _at all_.”

“Yeah, but that’s what you’re for,” Barry said.

“Aww. Well aren’t you a sap.”

“I thought I was terrible.”

“You’re both. Shut up.”

It was lucky that Catnip had already vacated the couch, because they kind of needed their space after that.

 

“Alright fine, I admit it,” Cisco said, dropping down onto the seat at the table opposite Barry. “My apartment’s a shithole.”

“Okay…” Barry started carefully, pushing the coffee he’d ordered for Cisco a little further onto his side. This wasn’t exactly news, but Cisco had been fairly averse to talking about it in the past, insisting that it was good enough for him, and besides, he was saving money to help his parents out with their house payments.

Cisco gripped the mug of coffee hard enough that Barry winced in sympathy for the way it must be burning his fingers. “I saw a rat last week. Like, an actual _rat_. I haven’t seen one of those since last year when I was in New York City, and they’re actually _way_ less cute when they’re four feet from you instead of safely down on the subway tracks. And my landlord’s trying to raise the rent.”

“He can’t do that.”

“No, but he can kick me out and get someone in who’ll pay him more instead.” Cisco sighed.

“So move,” Barry suggested. “There’s better apartments out there.”

Cisco hmphed, taking a sip of his coffee.

“You know, I’ve been thinking.” Barry paused, was this a good idea? Well, probably not, but screw it, he’d definitely had worse. “Been thinking of looking for my own place, again. Joe’s great, but I can’t stay there forever, and he’s seeing that woman from the gym so evenings are getting more awkward…”

A vague hum. Cisco was still lost in thought.

“But rent’s so much easier to handle when you have a roommate, right?”

Cisco looked up, and it would have seemed casual if it weren’t for the heavy thunk of the mug hitting the table too fast. “Oh,” he said, and stopped.

Barry reached out a hand, pulled one of Cisco’s off the mug.

Cisco’s eyes darted down and up, to their hands and back again. “Oh.” He smiled. “Okay.”

 

The first time Cisco called it “our place,” in the middle of settling in, Barry nearly passed out. He was brought back to reality only by Catnip, complaining that they hadn’t unpacked her food bowl, yet.


End file.
